


Bunkmates

by Unlimited Power (Nilenium)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28590525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilenium/pseuds/Unlimited%20Power
Summary: Fix-it of s7e14. What I think should have happened when Neelix and Tuvok became bunkmates.
Relationships: Neelix & Tuvok (Star Trek)
Kudos: 3





	Bunkmates

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-indulgent Neelix and Tuvok story set in s7e14 The Prophecy, in which all those Klingons came aboard Voyager. I couldn't stand that Neelix was written as such a jerk to Tuvok after everything they went through together, that didn't make sense to me with how their relationship evolved, so I wrote this as a way to fix the episode.

The door chime interrupted the soothing silence of Tuvok's quarters. The Vulcan looked up from his PADD, curious about the nature of such a late visit. He wasn't expecting anyone and after a long shift, implementing new security measures for the duration of their Klingon guests stay on board the Voyager, he was in no mood to entertain.

"Come in," Tuvok said.

The door whooshed open, revealing Neelix. While it wasn't exactly unheard of for Neelix to visit him from time to time in his quarters, usually to invite him to some and such event, or to discuss matters when security intersected with his ambassadorial duties, what gave Tuvok a pause was the sight of a stuffed duffel bag over Neelix's shoulder. The Vulcan felt an unpleasant sensation, like a coil twisting in his gut, but chose to ignore it.

"Hi, Tuvok, I know this is a little sudden, but, uhm, in these circumstances, I hope you wouldn't mind... I mean, we all need to grit out teeth and put up with each other, and it might even be good for the overall crew morale, right?" In his usual fashion, Neelix managed to say a lot without saying anything meaningful. This lack of clarity in communication was unfortunately a common flaw in most humanoids, so Tuvok was more or less used to it by then. It happened especially often in a case of a person feeling nervous. And judging by the way Neelix hovered in the doorway, he was definitely that.

"Mr Neelix, what is the reason for you coming here?" Tuvok cut straight to the point, although he had his suspicions.

Neelix straightened and took a hesitant half-step forward. "Well, as you know, we have guests aboard and as Voyager's ambassador it is my duty to show them hospitality and give example to the crew, so I gave my quarters to a Klingon family. When I was arranging the new accommodations for everyone, I noticed you don't have a bunkmate yet, so I was wondering if you'd let me sleep over in your quarters for the time being?" At last, he came forward with his request, expression hopeful and earnest.

Tuvok took a breath and exhaled it slowly in a calming technique he frequently used when dealing with various inconveniences. Then he got up and went to the door, his arrival making Neelix take a step back so he was behind the threshold.

"I don't wish to share my quarters with you, Mr Neelix. I'm sure you will find a more suitable company with other members of our crew," he said, hand going to close the door.

"Wait, Tuvok!" Neelix reached out, blocking his access to the panel. "Believe me, I checked, but there's really no other free place – that is unless Tom and B'Elanna let me sleep on their carpet, since they already gave the couch to Harry. Even the captain is sharing her quarters, you know?" That stopped Tuvok in his tracks. The living situation on Voyager appeared to be much more dire than he anticipated.

Encouraged by Tuvok's silence, Neelix plunged on. "I know this isn't ideal for you, but we've managed to survive before on away missions and in the Delta Flyer," he made a sound argument, though Tuvok could argue that even then they were separated, with one sitting in the cockpit and the other in the small backroom of the shuttle where they also slept in shifts. "I promise I won't bother you if you let me stay. Please?" Neelix asked.

Tuvok exhaled heavily again and took a step back. "Very well, I will allow it. But you will follow my rules if you're going to stay here, Mr Neelix."

"Thank you! Thank you, Mr Vulcan! I knew you wouldn't let down a friend in need! I owe you a huge favour, and you can cash it in – anytime!" Neelix said happily and swept into the room, all previous hesitancy forgotten.

He made a beeline for the couch and pulled a blanket out of his pack to set over it. "Can I borrow that pillow?" he asked, pointing at the said object on the armchair.

"You can," Tuvok acquiesced stiffly.

Feeling tense but unwilling to show it, he took back his seat and attempted to return to his reading on the padd, however his senses were on a constant alert to Neelix's every move. He was expecting obnoxious attempts to start a pointless conversation, but the Talaxian simply made his bed before going to the bathroom unit. Tuvok heard a shower turning on and vague murmur of a song which sounded similar to one of those Klingon drinking songs. Neelix didn't take long – around four minutes, twenty-three seconds by Tuvok's estimation – then he emerged, already changed in his nightclothes and a nightcap.

"I'm turning in early. I've got 204 more mouths to feed, so I need more time in the morning to prepare breakfast," he needlessly answered a question Tuvok didn't ask (though Tuvok was quite fine that he didn't _have_ to ask). "What about you?"

"I will stay up and finish my reading, then go to bed," he replied.

Neelix nodded. "Well then, goodnight, Tuvok," he said, laying down on the couch and covering himself with the blanket.

"Goodnight, Mr Neelix."

Tuvok read barely two lines when Neelix spoke up again. "Tuvok?"

He should have expected the Talaxian would not be actually able to stay silent for a minute.

"Yes, Mr Neelix?" he asked.

"Well, it's nothing major, but I should probably tell you, just in case. You deserve a fair warning." Tuvok looked at him in full alert after such an ominous preamble. "I'm told I tend to snore in my sleep," Neelix confessed in whisper. Tuvok exhaled slowly and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I try to sleep on my side to prevent that, but sometimes I turn on my back when I'm sleeping. So, if that happens and my snoring disturbs you, you can wake me."

"I will, Mr Neelix," Tuvok agreed.

"Alright then. Goodnight."

Tuvok didn't respond.

But his acute Vulcan hearing didn't pick up on a change in Neelix's breathing pattern for at least an hour and seven minutes before it slowed and deepened, indicating that he'd finally fallen asleep.

Unlike his awake self, Neelix was an unusually still sleeper. Curled up and facing away from the room, he looked like a vague lumpy shape on the couch after the lights were dimmed. If it wasn't for the very soft sound of his breathing, Tuvok would have thought the Talaxian was dead. However, since that wasn't the case, Tuvok didn't dwell on the slight possibility of such an occurrence and went to sleep.

To his lack of surprise, he was woken before his internal clock did so. The sounds of shuffling and panting, followed by a sharp gasp—then Neelix shot up into a sitting position on the couch. However, instead of going back to sleep, the Talaxian sat still for a moment, gathering his wits, before gingerly getting up. The clothes rustled as he changed in the dark room.

Tuvok glanced at the bedside clock. It was exactly 0311.

"Mr Neelix, where are you going? You should sleep," he spoke.

Neelix jumped up and pivoted around with a caught in the act expression. "I'm sorry, Tuvok, did I wake you? I was trying to be as quiet as possible."

"That doesn't matter. You weren't conscious when I woke up. You should go back to sleep. It's only 0312 hours."

"Thank you, but I've rested enough. I should go get an early start on that breakfast. Sleep tight, Tuvok," Neelix replied in a hushed tone.

Then he left, but instead of falling asleep right away, Tuvok's eyes lingered on the couch and the blanket folded with a military precision, before closing again.

In the morning, Tuvok went to the mess hall. He was merely checking on the Klingons and whether the assigned guards were handling everything correctly. The inspection successful, Tuvok was going to replicate a Vulcan dish for himself, but seamlessly changed his direction when he caught a sight of Neelix handing out bowls of stew to the Klingons.

As he stood at the replicator, Tuvok observed Neelix from out the corner of his eye. After deeming the Talaxian was back to his usual colourful personality, Tuvok turned his attention to more vital matters, like the security reports on his padd.

He didn't run into Neelix again that day, the new state of mayhem on the ship caused by the Klingon presence kept Tuvok thoroughly occupied. He had no time or desire to visit the mess hall again when it was crawling with the Klingons. They increased the level of rowdiness by roughly 430 percent.

If Tuvok wasn't a Vulcan, he might have forgotten about the whole bunkmate situation being forced upon him due to the multitude of issues he'd been required to attend to that day. However, he was a Vulcan, his memory crystal clear. When he approached his quarters, he took in an additional deep breath, centering himself before he had to see Neelix again. The Talaxian had a vexing tendency to delight in childish attempts to provoke an emotional response out of him. Such behavior happened with certain regularity and by his estimate, it was a high time for Neelix to try it again. Tuvok hadn't given him satisfaction yet and he wouldn't start now or ever.

The door to his quarters opened. No sign of Neelix. Tuvok entered cautiously, his guard raised. It was almost as if Neelix had never been there. Except…

The table was set for one. A Vulcan meal, one of his favourites, Tuvok noted, was prepared and still warm. A force field gleamed around it, protecting the heat from leaking out. Tuvok applauded the good thinking – his soup was kept at just the right temperature, waiting for him.

He sat down at the table and cautiously put a spoonful in his mouth. Then he blinked. It tasted… normal. No additional spices Neelix was so fond of adding to Vulcan recipes for "flavor". Will wonders never cease?

Tuvok decided to take the gesture in a good faith and finished the soup. Time would tell if it was a just one-time reprieve from Neelix's usual antics, or a sign of a more permanent change.

Perhaps – only perhaps – rooming with the Talaxian wouldn't be as disagreeable as he'd made it out to be, Tuvok allowed.

.

Thanks to his extensive training in logic, Tuvok could anticipate trouble easily, which made him such a reliable chief of security. His predictions were rarely wrong.

Sharing quarters with Neelix in fact didn't turn into the nightmare he was preparing for. The Talaxian didn't stay inside much. With all the Klingons aboard, his schedule was packed even more than usual, resulting in him spending in Tuvok's space the bare minimum of time needed to shower, dress and sleep. The Vulcan was surprised but grateful as he was mostly left in peace. The occasional dinners helped set his mind at ease too.

Neelix's none-presence for most of the time didn't mean things didn't change around. It still irked when Tuvok found a mess in the living room that meant that Neelix had left in a hurry. Once, for some inexplicable reason there was even a stray leola root, which he thankfully discovered under the cushion before he sat on it. Seeing the various bottles and jars in the bathroom that didn't belong to him was rather unsettling, but he expertly ignored the irrelevant sensation. It sometimes appeared as if he was living with a ghost, not a crewmate.

Tuvok rubbed the wrinkle on his temple and concentrated on the meditation. A ghost was preferable to a loud and nosy interloper that Neelix could be if he wanted to. Tuvok had comparatively little to complain about in their current arrangement.

Nevertheless, he looked forward with anticipation to the day the Klingons disembarked and he could have his quarters back to himself and only himself.

.

Despite Voyager boasting only one Klingon among the crew until recently, Neelix was handling their guests' care with aplomb and understanding that went beyond skimming a summary of a report on the species. He chalked it up to his long experience in the Hirogen simulation which he spent as a Klingon warrior, steeped in their way of thinking and tradition. Such a programming left a mark on the psyche.

But even as harried as he was, Neelix would have had to be deaf and blind not to notice that Harry Kim was hiding in the maintenance passages. When he found out that the harrowed ensign was hunted by a Klingon woman who wished to mate, he couldn't just do nothing. Being a morale officer, Neelix jumped in for the opportunity to aid his friend. (Although, he was big enough to admit, his reasons to take action weren't entirely altruistic. There was some shrewd opportunism behind them too. It had been too long since Kes had left him…)

When the Klingon woman approached, Neelix grabbed Harry by the collar and snarled at him, threatening bodily harm for some made up offence. It was a Klingon way to establish dominance. A pure act on his part, but he could sell it well enough with the ensign playing along. Harry's running escape was a surefire way for the Klingon to lose all interest in him as it made him look like a coward.

Klingons weren't that complicated. As long as you understood their core values, figuring them out was pretty easy.

The fast con went off without a hitch, the woman switching her interest to a more dominant male just as he wanted. He took her to Tuvok's quarters, as he had nowhere else private to go. His stiff-necked bunkmate would disapprove, but Neelix fully intended to keep his extracurricular activities from him. This was a rare opportunity and he wasn't going to waste it.

Neelix just didn't consider one thing in his calculations – that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

At first, he thought he could handle a little bit of roughness. Then the Klingon slammed him against the wall. He hit his head so hard that he saw stars bursting before his eyes. Before he recovered from the pain, she took his mouth in a brutal kiss that was more teeth than tongue.

With blood filling his mouth, Neelix barely managed to slip out of the woman's grasp and back away. She pursued with a feral, excited gleam in her eyes that he couldn't return, her lips curving in a faint, predatory smirk as she stalked him. Hiding his rising trepidation behind a nervous smile, Neelix fended off her increasingly more brutal attempts at physical closeness. As he found himself on the receiving end of the Klingon's violent affections, he finally understood why Harry would rather crawl through dirty maintenance tunnels than risk running into her in the hallways.

Neelix was smacked in the face with a sinking realization that he'd been entirely too cocky and over his head. This female was nothing like Kes, with whom things were always gentle and sweet. It scared him, the sharp, biting teeth and nails clawing him to blood, rough hands, the casual dealing of pain when it should be pleasure. What he mistook for passion was actually just an animal drive. But he couldn't show fear, that would only encourage the woman or, for worse, enrage her, and his physiology wasn't sturdy enough to withstand the brunt of a Klingon fury.

"Stop! Please, you should really slow down!" he exclaimed, putting up his hands defensively while he backed away until he bumped into the table. "How about we take a deep, calming breath and talk about this first?"

In response, the Klingon grabbed his throat and squeezed, leaning closer. Her hot breath, smelling of gagh served in the mess hall, steamed over his face.

"No! I waited too long. Now we mate!" she snarled into his bluing face, then shook him like a dog would a chew toy and let go.

Neelix gasped and coughed, rubbing his throat. He cast a desperate look at the door, then to his jacket and the comm badge attached to it. It was the only piece of clothing she managed to tear off him before things escalated. He regretted not holding on to it. Just one push of a button and he could have called security. But now his salvation was too far away, laying on the floor across the room.

One more look to the door. Why wasn't Tuvok coming back when he was needed here? Didn't he have some Vulcan instinct to protect his territory? (It was hard to miss Tuvok's reluctance to accept a roommate despite it being a common practice in Starfleet. His annoyance at even the most minute changes done to what he considered his space was visible to the naked eye despite all the claims of the Vulcan unemotionality and devotion to logic. Neelix had smirked and said nothing, still having his preservation instincts intact. But when he got his own quarters again, well, then it would be a different story…)

His stray observations about Tuvok were literally knocked out of his head when the woman turned him around and pushed him roughly onto the table. His nose crashed on the hard glass surface with a crack and blood spurted out, the thick, coppery scent stirring the Klingon's fervour even more. She pressed on his back, pinning him down with her heavy, armoured body, then tore at his collar and bit into the exposed shoulder.

Neelix screamed from the pain and shock.

"Shut up and take it like a warrior," she growled and licked the wound she inflicted.

Neelix thrashed in her grip like an eel. He wasn't a born fighter, but once, he'd been a soldier, admittedly not a particularly good one, but he wasn't completely helpless. As a free merchant, he'd survived a fair share of scrapes and close calls too.

He reached out desperately, vision blurry from her hits and choking. Then his hand closed around something cold and hard. Neelix heaved himself up in one adrenaline-fueled burst of power, rapidly spun over and smashed the heavy object on the Klingon's head. She dropped like a stone.

Neelix looked at the shattered figurine in his hand, the pieces of it mixed with blood on the floor. Some shards pierced into his skin, but he barely felt it under the loud throbbing of pain through his entire body. The Klingon was deathly still.

He slumped back tiredly on the table, his ragged breathing filling the silence as he processed everything that happened. At least the worst of it was over, he thought, feeling a headache building that had nothing to do with the blows to the head he'd received. He had no idea how he would explain the situation to the captain and Klingons without starting a bloody vendetta aboard.

And, of course, that was the moment when Tuvok finally showed up.

The Vulcan stopped in the doorway, hand immediately going for the phaser clipped to his belt as he surveyed the battlefield his quarters had been turned into with what would be called alarm and dismay in a less logical species. For a Vulcan, it had to be an equivalent to a look of horror and utter devastation. His brows narrowed even further at the unconscious Klingon on the floor.

For once, Neelix couldn't think of anything to say so he just looked back tiredly.

Tuvok knelt and checked the Klingon's pulse, then he glanced up at Neelix, his expression unreadable.

"Is…" His voice came out as a pathetic croak, so Neelix cleared his throat and tried again. "Is she… dead?"

Tuvok tapped on his comm badge. "Tuvok to security. Two to my quarters. There has been an assault."

Neelix took a steadying breath and braced himself with grim acceptance, fingers clutching the table's edge behind him. The captain wouldn't overlook murder, even in self-defense. He wouldn't resist arrest.

"The attacker is unconscious and needs to be detained," Tuvok then finished and turned off the badge. "Do you need me to escort you to sickbay, Mr Neelix?"

Neelix blinked. "Huh?" he uttered unintelligently.

"You are injured."

"Ah. Yes." Right, he forgot, as the throbbing dulled slightly. "She threw me around. And bit me," he offered an unnecessary explanation.

Tuvok gave a nod. "Mr Neelix, we should head to sickbay," he reminded, tone a tad gentler than how he'd normally talk to him. Neelix thought he was hallucinating, so he closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, the Vulcan was still standing there with an expectant look.

"Oh. Right."

"You appear to suffer from a concussion. I will assist you."

"Okay," Neelix agreed quietly.

Tuvok came closer, then his sharp sight zeroed in on the shattered remnants of the figurine still clutched in Neelix's hand and he exhaled softly. Neelix had a sudden urge to hide it behind himself, but it was already too late, so he just set it down on the table carefully. The shards cut deeper into his palm when he moved it, making him wince.

Without a comment, Tuvok put Neelix's arm over his shoulder and helped him walk. But it only made the Talaxian's conscience even guiltier until he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Tuvok, I… I'm really sorry about… about making a mess… and destroying your things," he apologized.

A beat passed.

"That figurine," Tuvok said, "was a gift from my wife for our anniversary."

Every word felt like a swing of an executioner's axe. Neelix's eyes widened in shocked guilt. "Oh my god, Tuvok, I am so sorry!" he blurted out. "I didn't intend to destroy it! It was just the closest thing I could grab… Tell your wife I'm sorry."

"I think she would be pleased to know her gift saved your life."

"… Really?"

Tuvok drew his shoulders together. "I told her such a gift was illogical and impractical. She insisted I take it anyway."

"… Wait, what do you mean, 'saved my life'? She wasn't going to kill me, she was just…" Neelix flushed.

"Klingon women in such a state of frenzied arousal are known to have killed if their partner was too frail. That is why they choose the strongest men they could find to mate with," Tuvok explained.

Neelix blanched.

"You are lucky Ensign Kim mentioned that he left you with that woman when he came late to the bridge. I made my deduction and came immediately to investigate."

Neelix was still reeling from the news of his near brush with death when they came to sickbay. Only much later, after the Doctor's treatment cleared up his concussion and he had some time to think, he realized that Tuvok must have come looking for him… because he was worried…?

Neelix sneaked out of the sickbay and went back to Tuvok's quarters. When he entered, Tuvok was on his knees, picking the shards from his carpet.

"Don't!" Neelix rasped. Tuvok raised his gaze to him. "Don't," Neelix repeated, softer, but firm. "I'll clean it up."

Tuvok straightened up. "Don't be illogical. You were injured, you're in no state to clean this."

"The Doctor made me all better. Besides, it's my mess. I made it, so I should be the one to clean it, not you," Neelix replied and kneeled next to Tuvok, joining him in his efforts. The Vulcan didn't object again.

They worked side by side for a while as Neelix gathered his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Tuvok", he apologized. He knew he'd said it once before, but it was important that he did this properly. It wouldn't make up for the damages and breach in trust, but it was a start. "This is all my fault. I wasn't thinking right."

"Yes," Tuvok agreed laconically. Neelix winced. Looked like Tuvok didn't even dream to suspect him of something as elemental as _thinking_. Neelix sighed. He deserved that.

"After I clean this up, I'll find somewhere else to stay," he said. After what he'd pulled, Tuvok must want him gone for sure, so why wait for him to say so?

He supposed he could put together something in the mess hall. He was already spending most of his waking hours there, he could as well sleep there too.

Tuvok gave him a pondering look. "That won't be necessary, Mr Neelix. You may stay here for the time being. Until other quarters become available," he said, as if he'd read his thoughts.

Neelix mouth gaped open. "Why?" he asked. He thought Tuvok wanted to get rid of him as quick as possible!

The Vulcan slanted his head. "Apart from this incident, rooming with you was… acceptable," he admitted.

Neelix was at first floored, then a grin spread on his face and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Coming from Tuvok, _acceptable_ was a high praise. And he barely did anything to earn it…

"It's the soup, right? You liked my soup?" he asked in epiphany. "Or was it the Vulcan lasagna?"

"Mr Neelix, this decision isn't motivated by your culinary offerings…" Tuvok replied, but Neelix was too excited to listen to him.

"I know, it has to be the leola stew! You see, I changed the recipe, instead of adding the spices, I poured in more water and let it boil…"

Tuvok exhaled in exasperation.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Share your thoughts below if you'd like :)


End file.
